#achievement hunter fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shadeofazmeinya · 1 year

Text

How to Plan a Simple Heist: A Guide for the Current Sorry Soul Leading the Fakes

A/N: Here’s my fic for the Achieve! Zine that I was a part of! If you enjoy, I highly recommend the rest of the zine! As always, reblogs and comments are super appreciated!

AO3 Link

A man stands outside the tall marbled columns of the Maze bank, sunglasses reflecting the heat of a Los Santos day. The city bustles with movement; cars, people, planes soaring up above. But this man is stopped, considering the imposing structure in front of him as the doors swing in and out with people.

He leans back against the parking meter, hands buried into the pockets of his brown leather jacket, a wolf snarling on his back. No one cares to look at him and he doesn’t care to look at them. After a moment he adjusts his baseball cap a little lower over his brown curls and his eyes flicks to his watch. His mouth twists as he counts down the seconds before he pushes himself up and heads inside.

Pushing past the glass doors, his shoes echo across the marble floor. A second story balcony hangs above and he spares a glance up. There, a lithe man in a tailored suit stands. His blonde hair shines in the light, matching the gold around his neck and wrist. He stares down at the people going about their days alone. The two men catch eyes. Smirks pull at both of their lips and just as suddenly the man up top slips back into the crowd. And the man below continues his march to the teller's window.

“What can I help you with?” the teller says pleasantly, unknowing of the plan already unfolding. The parts already moving into place.

The man in leather grins and starts to hand a note-

“Then you seduce the bank teller!” Joe interrupts with a grin, a hand slamming down on the wood table that is sprawled with various maps, scrawled notes, and surveillance photos all centered on Maze Bank.

“What?” Alfredo laughs, others in the room bursting into giggles. “Why do you always want to fucking seduce the marks on the heist?”

“I can do it! Let me try!”

“No,” Trevor sighs, hand pinching the bridge of his nose. This planning session has already gone on for two hours and they’ve yet to even properly plan getting to the vaults. “No seducing. Michael just passes a note saying that this is a robbery.”

“That’s so boring though,” Joe huffs.

“He’s right, we can do better than a note,” Lindsay nods.

Trevor sighs, able to tell the battle he’s losing. “Then just tell the bank teller you’re robbing them. The note was the finesse.”

“Am I supposed to ask to go in the back or hold up the front?” Michael says, turning them somewhat back on track.

“You are the distraction. Your job is to keep the focus on you, while the others are setting up in the back-“

A large, detailed painting hangs in one of the meeting rooms, something expensive even if the subject is hard to make out with the mesh of colors. The room sits empty, silent until the painting creaks. Thudding against the wall, once, twice, third time it knocks off the hanger and clatters to the ground.

Replacing it is a hole with two figures inside. Both are dressed in all black with masks covering their faces and slip out with bags of gear on their back.

They move swiftly with practiced ease. They pause at the doorway and one leans out to listen. They listen closely and then give a quick hand motion and they both move out. Running down the hallway.

The camera flickers, red light blinking. Connected is a screen that shows the figures moving around. Then the screen flickers; the figures disappear mid walk. The screen shows just an empty hallway. Leaving silence and a lulled peace once again.

“How come Matt always gets to be the man in the chair?” Alfredo huffs, leaning back as Trevor is again trying to explain.

“Because I’m the hacker. That’s what I do. Besides, you said you wanted to be the one in the tunnel.”

“I did say that,” Alfredo laments. “Joe convinced me on the outfits.”

“Black and slim is sexy,” Joe grins. “And we get to use the big drill.”

“The hole will be made before the heist even begins,” Trevor reminds, pointing out their floor plans and maps that were labeled with the drill spots.

“Ky and I get to do it, right?” BK beams. “Pretty please, Trevor? We can sneak around and easily get it in place.”

“What?! No, I want to!” Jeremy protests. “Matt taught me how to use it!”

“Cmon, Jeremy, you know Team Friendly Fire has it covered,” Ky cuts in.

“Ky and BK can do it, Jeremy we’ll need you for setting up other parts of the heist,” Trevor says.

Ky smirks and sticks her tongue out at Jeremy, who returns the gesture.

“Now let’s focus and talk about how we’re getting out-“

The back door bursts open, several figures flooding out into the back alley. Voices shout and the wail of sirens isn’t far off. But the figures don’t stop moving, each carrying a bag draped around them. Cash sticking out from every stuffed pocket.

The figures bolt, taking off running in the same direction. All sharing bright grins as they run with their steal.

“We’re almost at the pickup spot,” one shouts, tapping a small piece in their ear.

“I’m right there,” a voice responds, a curl of red hair shouting over the loud roar of a helicopter. A shadow crosses over them, a cargobob hovering as the wind rips around.

Below the machine, there was a chain hooked to something hanging below it. A bright pink plastic box, swinging, with words on the side of it reading-

“We’re not using the fucking Porta Potty!” Michael shouts as Lindsay bursts into giggles.

“It’s the perfect plan, Michael!” Lindsay defends. “Listen-“

The room floods with bickering and teasing and complete lack of focus as they battle out the pros and cons of the portable toilet. Trevor lets out a deep, but fond, sigh. He knows when they need to focus they will. In the meantime, though, it's like herding cats.

Out of the corner of his eye, Trevor spots Jack give an amused smile as she lounges back in her chair. A knowing smile, having seen the chaos of these people the longest. But when she locks eyes with Trevor, she gives a subtle nod. An encouraging look, a deep set of trust. Trevor feels his nerves settle, looking back over all the maps and notes. All the work they’ve already put in. Trevor takes one more deep breath and gives a sharp whistle to get the room’s focus.

“Alright,-“ he says, leaning over the table and looking them all in the eyes. “Let’s take it from the top one more time.”

#achievement hunter #rtah #fake ah crew #fahc #ragehappy #my fics #its a gen fic so no ships haha #but i hope you all enjoy!

32 notes · View notes

tallowandport · 10 months

Text

Oh, right!

If anyone's interested, I've actually started a remake of an old fic I orphaned a while ago.

(I orphaned it due to drama in the fandom, you know how it is- but I just couldn't bear to leave it like that, so I'm working on this re-make with edits and All New chapters!!)

#werewolf #werewolves #werewolf fanfic #the quarry game #the quarry #ah #achievement hunter #ah the quarry crossover fic

8 notes · View notes

ot3podcast · 2 years

Photo

WARNING! This fanfic- I mean merch is a lemon! 🍋

US Store:

👕https://bit.ly/ot3lemonshirt

🧢 https://bit.ly/ot3lemonhat

UK Store:

👕https://bit.ly/lemonshirtUK

🧢 https://bit.ly/lemonhatUK

#🍋#lemon #lemon fic #fan fiction #ot3 #ot3 podcast #achievement hunter #rooster teeth #fandom #rated lemon #ahhhh i can't believe they let us do this

36 notes · View notes

drwangfire-phd · 2 years

Text

I'm not proud of this, but my favorite alcoholic drink is only because it reminds me of a RPF I read in like, my freshman year of college and I still have fond memories of it. It's also vodka, but mixes so fucking well with lemonade that I let it slide.

#me #it was an achievement hunter fic #and it was good #but then i had to stop watching them because it was weird #and thats whenbi was like #maaayyyybe i shouldnt read stories about real people #whether they say its cool or not #but like #deep eddys lemon vodka literally is my summer alcohol of choice

1 note · View note

heisttheblackflag · 1 year

Text

I guess I never linked this fic on here??? but it’s one of the pieces of writing I’m most proud of so! here’s my jeremichael au based on the country song “Big Iron” lol it was so much fun to write (and it’s super self indulgent so I keep rereading it lmao) so lmk what you think if you do read it 👉🏽👈🏽

#ah fic #ah fanfiction #achievement hunter fanfiction #jeremichael #jeremy #Michael #ah writers #rt writers #rtah #fanfic #fanfiction #team short temper

6 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 4 months

Note

I always am in awe and in love with your writing and wanted your thoughts on this. What do you think of the aloof Mihawk with an apprentice that he isn’t that close too. He still is protective, but doesn’t think much until he notices that the apprentice is getting weaker and assumes they are slacking. He tears into them about being lazy and goes to leave only to hear them collapse with the Hanahaki disease. 🫣

Hanahaki: The Hawk and the Fledgling

Hanahaki: a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love.

Masterlist here. Part 2 here.

Word Count: 1,466

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you, Anon. I hope I fulfilled your request well. I am very new to the concept, so I have drawn this up as a drabble rather than a fully-fledged fic.

Song Accompaniment: Luminary

“Pick up the pace, Fledgling,” Mihawk directed you, his drawl laced in boredom and indifference, “try to at least be better than you were yesterday. You’re growing slack or, dare I say, lazy.”

It had been this way for the past three years. You had initially sought out the mighty Dracule Mihawk, warlord and world’s greatest swordsman, to train you to become an expert in skilled swordcraft. Initially, he refused your request; shutting the door in your face as soon as you uttered a simple: “Lord Mihawk, I have come to humbly request-.”

His eyes bore an intensity, an aloofness and disinterest about them. The honey-colour irises within the darker rings indicated he was exactly the strength you needed to train under to become an expert in your field. As soon as your gaze was halted by the large wooden door, the large brass handle swinging to nearly hit you; you became resolved in not moving from your place atop his staircase until he was willing to take you in.

He made you wait seven days. Your body was overcome with exhaustion, dehydration and malnourishment when he finally stepped aside to welcome you within his darkened and gloomy halls to await further instruction.

Your training began by vigorous routine: waking, eating, training, sleeping – all with the broody swordsman lording over you; criticising every aspect of your routine. Your apprenticeship was joined alongside the demon and bounty hunter: Roronoa Zoro. He was an amazing peer; his strength and agility was akin to your own, alongside his mantra to become stronger than the person he was yesterday. Mihawk paid you and Zoro the same amount of attention, his ward: Perona, also offering you guidance and comradery with her unwavering support.

“You slept in, Fledgling,” the warlord would utter, flicking the back of his newspaper to straighten the pages. He did not look up to acknowledge your presence in the slightest, opting to raise a glass of red wine to his lips instead.

“No protein with your breakfast? You’ll never achieve your goals by living on simply bread – I don’t care if Perona informs you otherwise,” he would utter, brushing past you to reach high up on the kitchen shelf and thrusting the jar into your hands, “at least balance it out with almonds or pumpkin seeds, Fledgling.”

“Sloppy,” he would comment, gesturing to a particular maneuver you were working with against your peer, Roronoa Zoro, “pick your feet up, Fledgling. Rabbit, aim for their calves to make them move.”

Each jab, taunt and criticism had your resolve to train harder and stronger more cemented within your chest: a chest that became weighed down with a feeling of suffocating tightness. The brush of a correcting hand, the whisper of his shoulder on his way past you, the feeling of his guidance on your lower back throughout the halls had your heart bound within vines.

Fighting the feeling with furrowed brows and clenched jaws, you pinned it as anxiety under the hard traineeship you sought with this undertaking with the swordsman. You thought you had trained yourself too hard: coughing uncontrollably, clutching your chest to relieve you of the tight feeling that followed with a spatter of blood falling from your parted lips into your palm. A trickle of saliva connected your lips to the pool within the creases of your hand: a small petal white and pure going unnoticed within your outstretched palm.

You strengthened your resolve, opting to train harder to break yourself from the weakness you were experiencing. You chose not to inform neither Perona, Zoro nor your boss Dracule Mihawk of the overexertion you were sure you were suffering.

Battling with Zoro became harder and more difficult with the amount of exhaustion you found yourself overcome with. The feeling never ceased, and appeared to be becoming worse the more your eyes met with the disapproving gaze of your mentor. Mihawk would shake his head and look away from your stance in disappointment, opting to praise Zoro for his ability to take down someone akin to you.

It was not until you felt the feeling overcome your chest completely that you collapsed under the pressure of your heart. The feeling of overexertion was too much. The passion was too much. The love?

Love.

You were in love.

You were in love with Dracule Mihawk.

A man you knew you could never have.

His gentle touches: firm enough to guide you, soft enough for it to be a suggestion rather than an order. The way his eyes would linger, unblinking and harsh. There was no softness, only correction and disinterest. He was not interested in you, not in the slightest - that was a fact you were certain of. A man of his stature had no awareness, desire, or need for something as simple as romance or love.

Collapsing within the vineyard, drawing your hand up to your mouth and coughing under the uncomfortable weight within your heart; your eyes rose to the feathered hat atop the warlord in front of you, wide and frantic.

“Lazy again, Fledgling?” he uttered, turning to face you along the clay row of the cascading vines, “and here I thought-.”

His words were cut short, his eyes widening at your form and brows immediately rising. Hunching your back over, you hung your head as a fit of uncontrollable coughs overcame your body in a fit of wheezed breaths. The vocal chords within your throat stung within the chasms of your oesophagus, a trail of white petals once again falling to your palm under your coughs. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes at the pain you were experiencing, looking in horror towards your mentor.

“What is-,” he began, turning in his sprint to join you at your side, “-what is wrong with you?”

Drawing his right arm to collect your shoulders, he embraced you against his chest as you continued to struggle to gulp down breaths of air to fill your lungs. Utilizing his left hand, he withdrew your hand from your lips and stared his amber eyes down to your palm.

“Hanahaki,” he whispered in a low growl. His teeth clenched tight against each other at the thought of the disease overtaking your form. His honey-coloured gaze scanned over your body, staring at the risen veins like vines rising in a trail from your heart to your clavicle as his breath hitched in a light hiss.

Releasing your hand from his left, he laced his left arm beneath your body and thrust himself upwards to cradle you against himself. His embrace was strong, his support of your respiratory system within his arms relieved some of the tension falling from your heart in waves of caged interwoven vines.

Blurred sentences falling from his lips, your ears nor eyes are able to focus on a single word uttered.

“-How long-.”

“-When did-.”

"-Fledgling-."

“-You didn’t say-.”

“Let’s-... -a doctor.”

You felt your body be placed onto a firm, wooden surface. Your chest felt weighed down by the amount of earthy and binding roots you felt entrapped by. Your jaw ached with how hard you had clasped your teeth shut to halt the release of more petals. Pure, white and teasing was the nature of the flowers falling from between your parted mouth. The ache never ceased within your chest the longer your mentor remained with you.

Your dizzying mind only regained focus at the next utterances falling from the lips of your mentor.

“I will send for the green-haired rabbit. Perhaps I can persuade him of the charm you hold and convince him to fall for you,” he took a long breath inwards and uttered in a tone just above a whisper, “if you can convince someone as hardened as I am wordlessly to harbor affection for you, the brat should have no such trouble.”

He exited the room, the wooden door to the kitchen swinging behind him in a slow, creaked ‘click’ as it met its handle against the brass latch. Immediately, you felt your heart began to release the tension folded around the organ. Although your mouth was dry, the flavour of metallic blood lingering in a cocktail against the floral texture of something akin to jasmine flowers, your body was relieved of the tension for the first time in three years.

No longer hardened by what you assumed to be mild anxiety, you knew you would be able to train harder still to achieve both yours and Dracule Mihawk’s impossibly high standards of yourself. Discovering what harbouring the affections of a warlord of the seas truly meant while training was something that filled your once constricted heart with a soaring freedom you yearned for.

You would have much to discuss upon his return, especially with a green-haired apprentice in tow.

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #hawkeye mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk #one piece mihawk #mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #opla mihawk x reader

504 notes · View notes

fleurriee · 1 year

Text

— stress reliever ; neteyam sully

pairing ; neteyam sully x fem!reader

synopsis ; your mate never took to stress well - but you couldn’t deny that it was a good look on him. so, when he comes home with a weight on his shoulders, you allow him to take it out on you.

word count ; 2.5k

themes ; smut, fluff, established relationship (mates)

warnings ; explicit content: dom!neteyam, scenting, pussy playing, p in v, let me know if there’s anything else..?

author’s note ; i really don’t know how i feel about this... but we’re gonna role with it. it got quite fluffy at the end bc this is still neteyam we’re talking about & that beautiful boy doesn’t have a bad bone in his body.

main masterlist request a fic!

Crouched against the floor, you hummed a quiet tune to yourself - your songcord created by yourself, waiting for more words added on with each achievement in your life. Your hands worked tenderly against the objects you were rearranging in front of you, originally believing that it was time for a new look within your tent.

There wasn’t much else for you to do, after all - you’d prepared your dinner for that night, all it now needed was the heat from the awaiting fire; you’d spent a good amount of time with both Kiri and Tuk, the former wanting your presence next to you as she worked with her grandmother, and the latter wanting you to play whatever she randomly wanted to on that day. You didn’t mind spending your day with little random bits like this, because it was nice to not have to stress over so much weighing down upon your shoulders... unlike your mate.

Several times since moving in together, Neteyam had come home stressed out of his mind - whether it was from the actions of that day, or any upcoming day, it didn’t matter. Neteyam always took everyone’s blame as the older brother, wanting the rest of the clan to see that he would make a good Olo’eyktan one day. And, despite the way he hated the feeling of being distressed, he continued to do it.

You only hoped today he’d come home happier.

You were just finishing the end of your songcord, about to start it over again when you heard pounding footsteps from behind you. Turning around, you watched as your mate stormed through the entrance of your tent, hands clenched at his sides and brows furrowed in clear anger. He was mumbling and grumbling under his breath, shaking his head side to side and eyes casted down as you could only hear fucking Lo’ak escape his laboured breathing.

Neteyam had spent the day with the war party, helping his father train the younger hunters for the moment they’d be taking on more challenging tasks to help protect the clan. By both his actions and the cursing of his younger brother, you could only guess that Lo’ak had done something stupid, therefore causing everything else to fall like dominoes, and there was no doubt in your mind Neteyam probably took the blame.

With your ears high on your head, you moved slowly as you stood up, disregarding your previous task and walking calmly over towards him. “Neteyam?” you questioned, voice soft so as not to startle him too much. You knew he’d never hurt you - he’d rather die before he ever thought about hurting you - but you knew he could set himself off, not wanting to him to spiral down a rabbit hole of despair. “Ma ‘teyam, is everything-”

Your words were cut off so abruptly that you felt the breath hitch in your throat, your legs suddenly leaving the ground as a gasp emanated from your lips. Warm, rough hands grasped themselves against the backs of your thighs, forcefully wrapping your legs around his waist and pressing you close to his chest. He squeezed your soft flesh, your arms holding tightly onto your mate’s shoulders as you stayed suspended in the air.

In one swift movement, Neteyam had mercilessly untied the knots of your loincloth, movements hurried and fervent, before throwing the material somewhere unknown within your tent to the both of you, without a care for its disregard. At his actions, you couldn’t help the tightening within your core.

“Need you, my yawne (beloved),” his voice rasped, forcing his head between the junction of your neck and shoulder, leaving teasing bites against your skin. “So fucking stressed, need your body - need your pussy.”

You felt your heat clench around nothing when his rushed words left his mouth and into the warmth of your skin. A whimper left your mouth as his hands squeezed your thighs again, leaving a lingering slap against your cheek.

“Do you want me to take it out on you?” he questioned harshly, voice low in the back of his throat, sending shivers down your spine. “Do you want me to fuck you senseless, let me fuck all my anger into you?”

A whine, loud and clear, tore through the air, your body subconsciously moving closer to his own, grinding against his abs for some friction. You were so desperate for him, so needy for him, that you weren’t entirely sure what you were doing, mind so foggy, lustful, and full of him.

He left another harsh slap against your ass, rubbing his head further into your neck as he drowned himself in your scent, allowing his own to pore into you, too. “Need you to use your words, my muntxa (mate).”

Swallowing carefully, you attempted to collect your words. You nod your head, your legs tightening around him. “Ye-yes, ma ‘teyam. Please.”

He brought one of his hands around, snaking its way in between your unbelievably close bodies, keeping you firmly in place with just his another one. You could feel his fingers dance teasingly as they lowered further and further down, gasping loudly when you felt the sensation of his cold fingers against your warmth. Neteyam began to rub gentle circles, eliciting a hiss from you, a smirk bubbling up in his throat at your reaction, tail curling around your ankle.

“What do you want, narlor (beautiful)?” His fingers continued their painfully slow pace, knowing that it would drive you over the edge and have you begging - exactly what he wanted. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

You were quick with your words, desperate, lusting for more, for all of him. “You, ‘teyam,” you breath out softly, rubbing your cheek against the top of his head, somehow bringing him all the more closer. “I want you to fuck me.”

A chuckle painted tight against your skin sent you shivering, his fingers moving away from your core and leaving you whimpering at the loss of contact. He loved the way you submitted to him so easily, giving him exactly what he wanted - he loved to hear you beg and plead for more.

He didn’t say anything else - he didn’t have to. In one swift movement, his own loincloth was lying on the floor, his eager and impatient emotions getting the better of him before his entire length was free, slapping softly against your lower stomach as it twitched in anticipation.

The feeling of him being so close, yet too far had you grinding against him again, his cock rubbing against your skin. Your hands tightened around his neck, fingers cleaving at his hair and pulling. A groan tumbled into your ears at your actions, a faint laugh escaping your lips at the reaction you could garner from your mate.

But, it was taken away from you the moment you had it. He roughly planted his lips against your own, moving forcefully as your teeth clashed and tongues fought for dominance in a messy show of love. Neteyam wasn’t typically dominant when it came to sex, rather just making love to you the way he knew best - but when he got stressed, he wanted complete and utter control over you.

And, you loved giving it to him, giving all of you to do whatever he pleased, but you also enjoyed teasing him. You enjoyed making him work for it, pushing so close to the edge he was moments away from snapping, because you knew, in the end, he’d fuck you until you were stuttering, breathless mess.

Hands returning to gripping your ass, squeezing more harshly then ever to show off the power dynamic he was craving, he continued to kiss you, wanting you to lose your breath but have you begging for more. When you pulled away from one another, lips swollen and eyes hooded, Neteyam made sure to keep his attention solely on you when he slammed his lips into your own, forcefully pushing himself inside of you.

On a normal occasion, Neteyam would take his time with you, making sure you were well taken care of and ready for him before bothering with himself. It wasn’t like you needed it, however - since mating, the two of you had had sex too many times to count, too loved up and adoring of one another that you simply couldn’t keep your hands to yourself. Now, you knew one another’s bodies like they were your own.

So, when Neteyam’s entire length pushed itself in you, completely bottoming out, a silent scream tore at your throat, eyes clasped shut, mouth agape and head hung back at how good it felt. You were sure there was nothing better in the entire world than the feeling of having Neteyam inside you, the warmth that blistered your body inside and out, the feeling of being full. You loved it.

Neteyam wasted no time in his movements, moving at full speed and not giving you a chance to adjust. He was angry, pent-up emotions getting the better of him as his eyes glazed over and all he could think about was fucking you senseless. He kept his grip firm on you, jaw clenched and eyes hardened as he watched your every reaction.

With his cock kissing your cervix so intensely, you tightened your entire body around him, arms and legs moving yourself impossibly closer to him. Lewd noises filled up your tent, the mixture of Neteyam’s grunts, your moans, and your wetness beginning to gush out on your mate’s cock combining together as one, you were sure the whole clan could hear.

But, you found yourself not caring. You almost wanted people to hear - wanted them to know how good your mate treated you, how good he made you feel. You wanted them to know you were entirely his.

Another low grunt fell from Neteyam’s lips, his head beginning to fall back and eyes screwing shut at the pure bliss and pleasure consuming him. He loved the feeling of your body clawing closer to his, loved the feeling of your head burying into the crook of his neck as you whimpered lovingly, the sound music to his ears.

Everything was becoming too much - you could feel yourself reaching closer and closer to the edge, whining submissively for more. “Nete-” you stuttered, not quite getting the correct words out, mind foggy and hazy. “Neteyam.” A guttural moan pierced through the atmosphere alongside his name, the two sounds coming together as he started to hit a specific part inside of you, spongy and warm and perfect.

Neteyam forced his head forwards again as he continued pounding relentlessly into you, one hand grabbing the back of your hair and pulling it back so your faces were in front of one another, noses touching and breaths mingling. You were a panting mess, words jumbled and unsure - obvious signs that you were close to cumming.

“You want to cum, my muntxa (mate)?” he asked, mouth wide open as he whispered the words into your own gaping mouth. Little whines were his only response, the sound sending warmth to both his heart and to his cock. “Hmm? You want to cum all over my cock?”

His words sent vibrations running through your entire system, from the bottoms of your toes all the way to your mind, your thoughts running wild. You could feel your tail beginning to shiver, too, another sign that the pleasure you were experiencing was too good, that you were close.

You nodded pathetically at his questions, desperate for him to give you exactly what you wanted. There was a brief moment where you wondered whether he’d stop so suddenly, ripping you away from your orgasm and making you start all over again just because he could. But, his anger was so prevalent, so built-up inside of him that he didn’t have the energy to be doing that - he just wanted to feel you as you let yourself go all over him like the good girl you were.

Your nod and whines were enough of an answer for him. “Then, cum,” he demanded, teeth gritting sharply and fangs pointing menacingly as he picked up speed, his balls slapping against your folds, willing you to cum. “Cum, my muntxa (mate).”

In an instant, you were completely sent over the edge, all mushy and whimpering and shaking as you came down form your high. You could feel Neteyam’s own release filling up your insides, too, painting your walls and swallowing his gravelly moan. His pounding didn’t stop, but it did cease, ensuring that you were both fully satisfied and his cum stayed inside of you exactly where it belonged.

With slow movements, you continued to pant into his mouth, lips messily attempting to kiss one another, sweaty foreheads coming in contact as you rubbed your noses together. The silence that ensued was welcoming, comforting, just the sounds of your aftermath and the scent of the two of you lingering against one another - heaven.

Neteyam continued to hold you in his arms, making sure you were safe in his grasp but softening his hold. He began to caress your skin lovingly, placing a tender kiss against your lips. You found your head leaning more towards his own once he pulled away, not wanting him to part so soon. “Are you okay?” he questioned, the fast-paced situation finally catching up to him. “I wasn’t too rough on you, was I?”

A blissful smile played at your lips, loving how he could switch from two different types of dominant in the matter of seconds - fucking you until your thoughts were filled of nothing but his cock, and making sure you were safe and rightfully cared for. Your eyes were still hooded and clouded when you responded, so quiet it was almost inaudible. “No, you were perfect.” Unwrapping one of your hands from around his neck, your cradled his jaw, your thumb rubbing gently under his eye. “Are you okay now?”

He chuckled at your question, understanding that you were insinuating to his stressed-out state when he first came home. Shaking his head, he smiled down at you adoringly. “Much better now, thanks to you.” He noticed your unsure expression, knowing how you’d rather him talk about his problems to you so he wasn’t keeping them entirely to himself. To ease you, he continued to rub your noses together, basking in your euphoric scent. “I’ll tell you about it later... right now, I just want you.”

Still snuggled in his arms, you allowed him to walk the two of you over to your mat in the corner, sitting down first so you could lay comfortably on top of him. The sensation of still having his cock stuffed inside your walls was warming to you, keeping your hands securely around his neck and burying you head further into his chest, listening to the beat of his heart.

It wasn’t long until you were flat-out, your intimate actions having completely exhausted you. Neteyam stayed awake for a little longer, listening to your comforting breathing as the stress dispersed from his body entirely. There wasn’t anything better than being with you - in any way possible, he wasn’t picky - your demeanour having the wonderful ability to soothe him, to bring him back down to earth.

Neteyam couldn’t have asked for a better mate - and he thanked Ewya everyday for blessing him with you.

#𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐑𝐑’s work ── ✎#neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam fluff #neteyam smut #neteyam angst #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam sully x you #neteyam x female reader #neteyam x fem reader #neteyam sully x female reader #neteyam sully x fem reader

1K notes · View notes

zexapher · 2 months

Text

A Fond Farewell

With Rooster Teeth beginning its draw down, an era has truly passed. The company has lasted more than two decades. 18 (soon 19) seasons, five mini-series, and cameos and references in Halo itself for Red vs Blue. 9 volumes alongside two movies, a chibi series, Ice Queendom, and its own games for RWBY. And so much more beyond that, RT Shorts, podcasts, Achievement Hunter, The Slow Mo Guys, and on and on. That’s a lot, especially for a little startup launching off a web series. I was listening to “This Isn’t Goodbye, It’s See You Later” by Richie Branson while I was making this little memorial post. It’s a song made for another Rooster Teeth show, Camp Camp, and I have to say it’s some very appropriate music for this moment.

The day the news dropped, I wrote up a little comment in response to Rooster Teeth beginning its closing down, and I thought I’d share some of it here. I grew up with Rooster Teeth, a bit of a cheesy line I know, but it’s true for a lot of us. I was just a little kid way back in the early 2000’s, a kid that liked Halo (a game I didn’t even own for a long time, but played at a friend’s house), and was just getting curious about what I could find about it on YouTube. And that brought me into the world of music videos and skits and montages made for that little game I liked.

From there, I discovered a small web series called Red vs. Blue. I’d sneak onto my folk’s computer to watch it since they didn’t appreciate the language, and in doing so I dipped my toes into the wide world of the internet for the first time. As I got older, I eventually hopped onto Reddit for its discussion threads of Rooster Teeth’s latest show, RWBY. I began my first in-depth fandom interactions, speculating about the show, enjoying the flood of fanart, even got into fanfics about RWBY (those fics have had their own amazing evolution alongside the show) and to this day it’s the fandom I’ve followed and bookmarked the most fics from. All the while I was making friends and bonding with people through the community this company and its shows have created.

Watching the shows and people grow over time was, looking back on it, just like watching myself grow. I was never really a social media/internet kind of guy, until it came to Rooster Teeth. The shows, shorts, podcasts, it all opened up a whole new world for me. It’s sad to see it coming to a close, and I hope it gets picked up in the future. But I’m happy, too, that it’s left so much behind, and had such an impact on me. It’s left me with so many good memories. Rooster Teeth, its shows, those that created and worked on it, and above all the community around it will always have a special place in my heart.

So, I bid a fond farewell to Rooster Teeth and its crew, and anyone who may drift away from the fandom in time. I wish you all the best.

188 notes · View notes

thefrogdalorian · 2 months

Text

Sanctuary

Din Djarin x GN!Reader

Summary: It's one of those days when your emotions threaten to overwhelm you. Despite the horrible day you're having, you try your best to keep it together. A feat you manage, until a certain Mandalorian arrives home and takes you into his arms. Word Count: 1.2k ✯ Rating: General ✯ Content Warnings: Descriptions of anxiety/panic attack ✯ Author's Note: Seeing these gifs the other day broke something in my brain and this little fic was the result. I hope this gets you through a day when you really need a hug from Din Djarin 💕 ✯ My Masterlist ✯

On the days when your stomach churned and you were too upset to vocalise the war that waged within yourself, you were grateful to have someone in your life who seemed to know exactly what you needed. There was no doubt that Din understood you better than you understood yourself. It was unsurprising, given how meticulous and attentive he was in everything he turned his hand to.

You had been in each other's lives for some time, yet you still found yourself pleasantly surprised each time he shared such care towards you. You never doubted Din's kind heart once you got to know him, but you were nonetheless astonished by the multitudes he contained. It was astounding how tender and caring the man, who had gained such a fearsome reputation throughout the galaxy as a ruthless bounty hunter, actually was beneath his cold, hard beskar.

It was early in the morning when Din had left through the door and your stomach tied itself into knots as you heard his heavy footprints gradually fade into the distance. The sound indicated that you were now alone with your thoughts. Throughout the day, you had pushed your emotions to the deepest depths inside yourself. You had been trying to kid yourself, in his absence, that you could survive the day without breaking down. You told yourself over and over that if you could just make it until Din returned and then put on a brave face when he walked through the door, you would have survived the day without dissolving into pieces. The last thing you wanted was for Din to see how upset you were. The fear that you were weighing him down with your troubles or somehow holding him back from achieving greater things was omnipresent. Even though he had never given you a reason to fear such a thing, you were constantly terrified of being seen as a burden to him.

The familiar heavy footsteps grew louder; their rhythmic, even quality indicated they could belong to only one man. You took a deep breath and attempted to steady your racing heart, preparing yourself to keep it together upon Din's return.

The second you saw his figure in the doorway, you knew it was a lost cause. At the sight of the familiar outline of beskar shining in the entryway, you immediately knew that there was no way that you would be able to maintain your composure. You stood up immediately, rising off the chair you had been sitting on as you waited for him, to greet the man who owned your heart entirely. Instead of racing towards him as usual, you found yourself suddenly overcome with apprehension. Your steps faltered with uncertainty as you walked towards him on shaky legs, feeling your ability to stay strong evaporate just from laying eyes upon him.

Din held his arms out to you without hesitation, beckoning you to come close to him.

“Come here, cyare,” Din whispered as you stepped into his orbit, his voice gravelly, “Let me hold you.”

As you closed the distance between you and Din to rest your head in the crook of his neck, you caught a glimpse of his mudhorn pauldron, glinting despite the low light of the cabin. Despite how terrible you felt, the ghost of a smile passed across your lips as you noticed the signet was so distinctively Din. Stepping into his arms felt like you were returning to safety. To your home.

You rested your head in the crook of his neck and nuzzled into his rough cowl, enjoying his familiar scent. It was musky and masculine, but not overbearing. You detected a faint hint of perspiration mixed with the floral scent you knew lingered on his skin thanks to the bottle of liquid he lathered across his tan skin in the 'fresher each morning. Din’s chestplate was firm against your body. Initially, you recoiled at the slight chill from the beskar, discernible even through your layers of clothing. Once you had adjusted to the temperature and new sensation, though, you felt nothing but warmth when you were in his arms.

As Din held you close and his hands rubbed comforting circles into your back with one strong arm holding you tightly around the waist, you appreciated the way your bodies fit together. It was as you were admiring how you seemed to be made for each other that you noticed how Din had wrapped his cape around your shoulders to further cocoon you into him. As though he was protecting you from all of the hurt that lingered outside of the sanctuary of his arms. From whatever was troubling you. There was no intense questioning, no expectations for answers. Only safety, love and understanding from a man who wanted to help you through your very worst days.

Something about nuzzling into Din’s neck and the care he had taken to raise your spirits rendered you speechless. You were overcome with emotion, powerless to stop the tears which started falling down your cheeks. At first, it was a solitary droplet, but then you couldn’t help yourself as more and more tears slipped from your eyes.

At the first sound of your sniffles, Din pulled away from you. You felt your stomach drop in panic, momentarily afraid that you had upset him somehow. You looked up at him and felt the embarrassment settle somewhere low in your stomach, a physical symptom of the mortification you felt at your outburst. Then came the shame. You were dismayed that you had lost control of your emotions in such a way. Evidence of your loss of composure was evident in the reflection of your face in his helmet. You watched as your expression grew increasingly more distraught and felt your chest heaving as the panic rose within you, upset at your emotional state.

Fortunately, Din was nothing but understanding and caring. Before your thoughts could spiral anywhere darker, he began to use his soft leather gloves against your cheeks to dry the tears that were burning hot trails down your skin. It distracted you from your anguish, his tender touch providing instant comfort.

You relished the contact and melted into his embrace. Between his hand that lingered on your cheek, while the other rubbed your back and ensured his cape still swaddled you, your mood was instantly calmer. Din brought you back into his shoulder and returned his hands to your back, rubbing up and down as he held you close. You wrapped your arms around his waist, relishing the small contact you gained with the warmth of his flesh between the hard plates of his beskar. You stayed like that for a few more minutes, feeling your anguish dissipate with each second that Din held you.

Eventually, your breathing evened out and returned to a less frantic pace. Sensing that his embrace had had the intended effect on your fragile emotional state, Din pulled away once again and brought his hands to cup your jaw gently.

“How are you feeling now?” he rasped as he stroked your cheeks with his gloved thumbs.

“Being in your arms always makes me feel better,” you smiled.

“I’d hold you for the rest of my days if you only asked me to, cyare,” Din vowed with a nod of his helmet.

You smiled then, enjoying the way your face lit up with a smile and how your eyes had regained their sparkle thanks to the tight embrace of your attentive Mandalorian; your sanctuary.

#din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #din djarin fluff #my fics #maybe i cried when i finished this (had a bad meltdown tonight lol and i truly need a certain mandalorian to wrap me up in his cape)#also thats my gif in my delulu brain that moment really looks like he's opening his arms to you for a hug HEH

198 notes · View notes